


Windswept

by Annibellee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Also bro and karkat are just mentions, Drug Use, Happy ending actually for once, It's a small and very nondescript scene but, M/M, Pining, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:31:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annibellee/pseuds/Annibellee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't say anything, but he hugged you and the wind was wild. He emitted the wind, and he was cold but in the warmest way imaginable. You fucking love the wind, you love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windswept

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote all of this today I'm proud of me and I also just feel good about it

You've been enraptured by the wind since you could remember anything.

The earliest day of your life you can remember was the day you turned five, and the wind swept you off of your feet while you were on the roof. Literally. A quick, small gasp was all that accompanied and you were on the ground. You knew the penalty for crying, so even though it really hurt when you fell on your wrist, you kept quiet. Even if there was no penalty, your adrenaline overtook you, and a swell of something you could not place took quarters in your chest. Inspiration. Then, as it was, the games began.

It had some type of impression on you. The wind was strong, and he had no fear. _(You are positive it is a he)_ It didn't stop in the face of anything and had an iron will, and could lash as a whip would. He made winters cower in fear and changed the direction of snow with a tilt of his head and quirk of his lips, all to playfully nip at your wrists. _(And yet-)_

The wind was also gentle, and hesitant. He blundered around you, calm and cool as he bounced off your cheeks. He soothed hot, sticky days with raspberries on your neck. He coaxed spring from its hiding place and scattered pistils of the prettiest flowers in hope that he can bring something to life.

The wind was mysterious, his words always hushed and indistinguishable. You could not read him, his hand would come from your shoulder blade to your chest in a blink. He shook the trees as he laughed and the leaves swirled about him. He was friendly with fall, and although he could not dance he never ceased to try.

The wind was loud, but he didn't mean to be. He forgot how to make himself quiet, he had so much to say and so much to do. He was obvious, his hand made a mess of your hair habitually. He and summer made a hurricane and it always took everything to keep your roof together in his presence.

You loved the wind and his eccentricities. He was ever present, no matter how he was that day, his hand was there to catch you. The wind there on your best days and arrived on the worst just in time. He was pure and he cleansed your skin of all the permeated loathing you've soaked up like a sponge over time. He made you clean.

For a long time your intense interest concerned you. Constantly you thought about the wind, but what did you know of the wind?

You read the wind, about the wind, into the wind, but you also had a feeling. After so many sleepless nights of reading, you knew you loved him, but why do you love him like you should love a person?

How do you know that the wind is a him, and what if you never figure it out?

Your friends chided you for not paying attention whenever the wind blew. All you knew how to do was shut your eyes and let him consume you, to tune everything else and feel him. Karkat once made a sarcastic comment about you being able to understand what it's saying, and that if you needed a moment with it he'd understand. You wanted to scream, to tell him the wind is a _him_ , not an it. You bit your tongue despite this, keeping your cool.

He would never understand, and he understood you almost as much as the wind did. The truth was that you couldn't understand the wind either, but you accepted him. You weren't as sure Karkat would understand this, much less accept the wind as a him. You couldn't lose him over something _(someone)_ you're almost sure you're making up.

You never felt as much like yourself when the wind wasn't in your ear. He tried to tell you everything, you know he did, but he was speaking another language that you couldn't decipher. Sometimes your skin burned and itched and your breath was caught in your chest and you ached to know what he was saying. Sometimes you couldn't help when this happened, and your friends couldn't ever know what to do, so you sat alone to shake because you had too much pride to let someone hug you the way the wind should.

It was your sophomore year in college when you met the wind.

He came to you in a pipe, in a substance that made you think of cornmeal. How you even know what cornmeal is eludes you, because Bro never had anything resembling it in the apartment in your life. Your new friend suggested you try it and hell if you weren't bored that day. You left your window open to feel the breeze flitter through your hair as you lit up.

He had black hair, and skin the color of desert sand when it got wet, but it looked so much smoother. His front teeth were too big for his mouth, and his glasses that aided oceanic eyes were too big but it was perfect and he was perfect and he was what you had been waiting for your whole life. He wrapped his arms around you and you didn't think twice before you returned the gesture, uttering a name to a face you didn't even recognize with a squeak in your voice.

_"John,"_

He didn't say anything, but he hugged you and the wind was wild. He emitted the wind, and he was cold but in the warmest way imaginable. You fucking love the wind, _you love him._

You never touched the drug again after you woke up, and broke the glass piece on your dorm wall, screaming in anguish. You had lost him again, but after some thought you knew you could never go through the let down twice. You took art classes and spent all of your time trying to learn how to draw him, what you had seen, who you'd seen.

The wind was a him, and his name was John. He was hurricanes and life, dancing and laughter, fear and frostbite. You met in a pipe dream.

There was a loud screeching noise one day on the road, a look to your right, a rush of the wind, a flare of light, and you were falling, falling, falling into the dark.

\--

You woke up shuddering and the oxygen wasn't making its way to your head fast enough, but there he was

The Wind.

"John," you couldn't help the quivering in your voice and the de ja vu that accompanied, you could help the grabbing, but you didn't, and you somehow breathed easier through his hair. He smelled like pine.

"I didn't.. I didn't remember you that time," You rasped, because you knew he needed some explanation from you, and you wanted him to have an eased mind.

He didn't say anything, but his skin really was as soft as you'd expected, like you remember it, as he hugged you back. He nods, and you think he understands,

he always has.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also uh this is inspired by and dedicated to xphantomhive ~


End file.
